


Hot Sauce Stains and Shitty Socks

by Ozzyyy



Series: Same Universe Karlnapity [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Alexis | Quackity, Comfort Reading, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Karl Jacobs Needs a Hug, Karl Jacobs-centric, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Alexis | Quackity, Separation Anxiety, Soft Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, Whump, Winged Alexis | Quackity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29225463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozzyyy/pseuds/Ozzyyy
Summary: !! part 2 of 'Devil in the Details' can possibly be read separately but it's recommended you read that one FIRST then read this one to get the full context of the situation !!Karl can time travel. It used to be a lot more fun than it has been lately. He's losing his edge, and by edge, he means the two people he loves most in the world.
Relationships: (Minor), Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Eret (Video Blogging RPF) & Other(s)
Series: Same Universe Karlnapity [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145792
Comments: 66
Kudos: 711





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oof, i really cranked this out. Sorry if it feels a little less full effort-y, I lost my steam a bit while writing this. However, it turned out alright all things considered! 
> 
> tw: Panic attacks, derealization episodes (minor), nausea/throwing up, anxiety, miscommunication, suicidal ideation for a moment

Karl can't control when he lives or dies anymore, which is possibly the most alarming thought he's had in weeks. He also can't control his position within reality and space, which is the second most alarming thought he's had.

But it's also not new. And maybe it shouldn't be, but the apathy route to this ordeal feels a lot more familiar to Karl then the vulnerability of admitting the fear. 

Which is why he swallows his fears when his eyes open again, and he's not tucked between his fiancee's, like one would from a nightmare. Despite the instant shock of no longer being huddled in warmth, he stuffs his shaky hands in his pockets and stands. Act casual. This is okay, this is normal. He'd been in the past, and now he was here again. 

Ever since he was a kid, he's been through shit like this in his dreams. It's only made a more prominent role in his life after it's reveal that it's existence is anything but imagination-bound. It's even been named, the Inbetween. No longer the colorless dazed castle he roamed in his sleep, but an actual realm he went to after his travels through time. 

It's peaceful here, kind. By all means, he should be calm and collected after he regains his bearings. Some days, he is. Some days, Karl finds himself spending more and more time in the Inbetween, finding that 'time' didn't exist within this dimension. He could never leave, if he wanted to, and at the snap of his fingers, he would return back to the present. Centuries could pass. And it's tempting. Dear god, it's tempting to hide away in the marble halls, sit under the glass trees and shaded overhangs from a permanent summer afternoon. 

But for as much as he loves the glossy stone, it's unsettling. It's liminal space. Too perfect, too curated to an ideal. Karl imagines whoever built this place expected it's next traveller to be a mimicry of it's halls. Or at least, it feels like it with the getup they give him. His clothes, sure, but drained of all color. 

It's all white, slick, perfect. Dirt doesn't track into the castle, the pots don't smash, and the second he turns his head from a messy stack of books, they restack to perfect order (alphabetical, even. He checked). 

Whoever the architect expected him to be, is not at all how Karl defines himself. Despite it humbling itself with promises of keeping Karl from losing his sense of identity, he feels like it's done the opposite. It's stolen what was his. Color. Disorder. Chaos. The messy stain of hot sauce on his left sleeve that dipped into Sapnap's dinner. Torn threads at the bottom of his cuffed jeans where he picked at the fabric, a habit of concern. Even his stupid mismatched socks that Quackity got him for Christmas were paled, boring, colorless. 

And it's not like he'd especially miss shitty socks or hot sauce stains, but they made his clothes unique. And by extension, him. Karl wasn't pristine silver marble. He was paint splatter on a tattered canvas. And if his fiancee's were correct, that's what made him perfect. 

Therefore, Karl tries to avoid this place as much as he can. It's useful, it's warm, but it's not home. Jesus, Karl wishes he was home. If he was like any other normal fucking person, he'd startle himself awake from a nightmare to two loving partners, and shake it off. Forget. 

Slowly, like the easing of a weight onto his shoulders, obligation piles into the bags under his eyes, dragging his eyelids. 

When was the last time he slept? It wasn't always that he was whisked away for adventure in his sleep, but whenever it happened, Karl couldn't bring himself to rest too easily a week or so afterwards. He didn't want this fucking ability in the first place, and now it was interfering with his damn REM hours. 

He drags his wrist across his eyes and the bridge of his nose, breathing slow through his nose. Karl can feel the dissociation and panic tingling across his fingers, dancing with numbness over his lips. He was losing it. By all means, he was fucking losing it. That last adventure had been hours long, maybe even a whole day. And he hadn't slept a wink. 

Karl's not sure the odds on his body understanding physical rest between the shifting of paradigm reality, but his bets laid solely on him getting no shut eye either way. 

He thumps through the halls, ignoring how the sound perfectly echos back into his ears, and slides himself into the wooden swing, pulling a novel from the tree roots. Time for his glorified book report. 

Karl flips through the pages for an hour, pouring through the words and feeling the strain take a toll on his gaze, words practically swimming on the page. 

Something something, influence on the past. Basic time traveller shit. It's not like Karl's never watched a fucking movie before, he's got the basics. Don't mess with anything unless you want your great uncle grandma's goldfish to suffocate in milk, or something. 

He shoves the book off his lap and leans hard into the chain of the swing, eyes dragging shut. He's so tired. That's another thing about this dog-water dimension, you can't sleep. There's no day to night cycles, and your body is basically in constant stasis. It's meant for mental rest and fortitude, not physical. 

Basically, so you don't embarrass yourself by full on sobbing when you come back from dying for the fifth time that week. He needs to have a talk with whoever invented this wack place, and ask them why they hated people and also good things. 

He's surprised, however, when he does feel himself nodding off for a moment before catching himself. Usually that level of sleep was yanked right out of him. But he manages to slip into sleep every couple seconds, head bobbing downwards before catching himself before the fall. 

It doesn't last. Karl's tired. He hopes the Mr. Clean gods don't assassinate him in his sleep or something. 

Instead of the peaceful drag of sleep or possibly a holy bolt through his skull, Karl feels his chin bang hard against wooden floors. He groans, rolling over onto his side and cradling his bruised jaw. Gaining new sense of his surroundings, Karl's even more disappointed to see he's back in the present, but not in the bed he wished he would be. 

He was hoping for too much, expecting to be set back into the arms of his lovers like an angel. He was just asking for this. 

Karl pushes onto his knees and wobbles to his feet, taking the short climb up the ladder as soon as the world stops spinning. 

He's not sure how much of his adventure into the past translates into his writing. He's delirious and none of it makes sense currently when he writes it, so he can't imagine the clusterfuck it is to someone fully awake. But the 'stories needed to be told' and clearly this was the only good that came from his powers, considering he couldn't do shit to save people, so he moves his hand in hopes his thoughts come across coherent. 

He's all too happy to shut the book cover and shove it onto the counter below the new poster that's arrived. Though, the image of his poor body being impaled from behind isn't encouraging. Glad to know he made the front page this time, though. 

Karl hugs his sweater closer to his body as soon as he realizes it's back. His fingers curl and he can feel the difference in fabric when they pass the overly washed stain. The bumps of stitches around the shoulder, where an explosion had ripped the fabric. 

He feels a little more human. A little less like a freak. 

Then there's the sickening familiar tug in his stomach. 

"No, c'mon, I-I just--" Karl sputters, arguing with some unseen force. Tears spring to his eyes, he just wants some fucking sleep!

The pull gets harder, and the atomic matter of his skin begins to bend to it's will, brain doing 180 spins in his skull. He's nauseous, and lets all his weight onto his knees, dropping downwards in hopes of using physical force to stop from being pulled into another fucking nightmare.

His hands don't hit the wooden planks of the library's basement, though. They hit plush grass.

A sea breeze curls through his nose, salt stinging his eyes. He's on a costal shore, just by a bustling trading port that looks straight out of Lord of the Rings. He saves himself the benefit of sarcasam, and hacks up the contents of his stomach into the dirt. 

An unfamiliar name is called in his direction, followed by hearty laughter. It's his call to the stage, his cue. 

His lips shut into a thin line, a sob caught, sealed, behind his teeth. A helpful tip sheet, a script, pops into his head. The unwelcomed intrusion reminds of him of his own place in this world. 

He's a tool. A trinket. 

Karl pushes to his feet and forces a grin, "Coming!" He calls over his shoulder, curling his hands into fists. He's so fucking tired. Dear god, he's fucking exhausted. 

By some miracle of nature, Karl manages to stay awake the entire time. He deserves a damn award. He keeps to his script, calls out for people he doesn't remember real fundamental memories for, and lets himself fall to a bombing this time, a self-detonated explosion trapped against the chest of a comrade. Karl almost keels over several times beforehand, though. His buddies thought him drunk. No, he wasn't, but Karl was really starting to wish he was. It'd make his fatigue more interesting. Or at the very least, bearable. 

He's fully numb by the time he gets back to the Inbetween. No complaints, no messing around, he reads what's given to him and waits for the pulse of shifting energy. 

Nature is cruel. Unkind, and a massive fucking bitch. 

Because this time Karl comes back to the present, but he doesn't come back in the library like he usually does. No, he had already done his chronicling anyway in the Inbetween. Maybe they were trying to be kind and are just out of touch with human being's ideas of what 'sympathetic nature' is. 

Instead of ending up in the library this time, Karl is dropped into the middle of a picnic. 

It's warm, sunny, the middle of a perfect spring afternoon, and he's having a picnic with the two people he loves most in the world. 

It's their anniversary. The anniversary picnic. 

That he's just not been there for. He could've been dropped off during their rest, in the morning, maybe before any of it had happened, but instead he was cruelly put near the end of what was supposed to be their perfect afternoon. Sapnap's laughing at something Q says, eyes drowning in mirth. Q's wings have never looked brighter. He imagines he'd went flying this morning, and Karl had probably been there to see it-- though not HIM Karl. Not him. No. Because Karl went nearly two days without sleep, was killed every couple hours, and Karl didn't complain. Because Karl is the chosen one of the Inbetween and he's a time traveller, and he doesn't get--

Doesn't get to see his husband's happiest day of their lives, doesn't get to experience that full day with them. 

And, well, it's the icing on the shit cake that's been the last who knows how many hours. 

He breaks into tears. The sobs that'd been locked tight inside him shatter through him. And his fiancee's look worried. Of course they do! Because for them, Karl's had two breakdowns in the last 24 hours. But to Karl, it's been nearly three days and he just wants to sleep--

Hot tears streak down his cheeks, and he flutily swipes at them with his sleeves. 

"Karl--" Quackity whispers, soft, rubbing his arm and half curling his winds around the man, "Hey, hey-- what's going on? Karl?" 

"Speak to us, babe. You promised." Sapnap hushes. 

Maybe it's because Karl doesn't remember making a promise about that, or maybe because it feels like years ago that he's heard their voices, but he only sobs louder, harder. 

Karl wails into his hands, cinching his fists through his hair. 

"I-I ca-can't anymore!" He screams, "I can't do it!" He laughs, wet and humorless, "I can't fucking do it! I can't do this anymore. I just can't!" 

Karl tilts his head upwards, towards the shifting hues of the sky and screams his voice until it's hoarse, "Pick someone else. Pick. Someone. Else!" A hand is tugging at his sleeve, but he shrugs it off, standing on unsteady feet, dead locked with the sky like he could yell into the heavens, "Find another! I don't want it! I don't want this, I don't want to! GOD as my WITNESS I--I--" He swallows thickly around the cotton dry taste in his mouth, "I'd rather fucking DIE. Then go back! I- I really would-- " He hiccups, yanking his body from another invasion of his venting. 

He waits. They're waiting to see if he's bluffing. He's not fucking bluffing. Images of buildings looming over the empty hole that used to be L'manburg sear into the back of his eyes. He imagines them with such vivid detail, the feeling of death's cold touch chilling his bones, imagines shutting his eyes and letting it be the last, finally- the last-- He knows they can feel him, see what he sees. 

They don't reply. 

Hands card through his hair, whispering soothing words into his ear as he's locked into a hug. Like puppet strings cut loose, Karl lets gravity take a grip on his form, collapsing downwards and further into Q's waiting hold. 

"It's okay, it's okay," Quackity hums, thumbing his nape. 

His head feels detached from his body, full of helium. Karl's on his knees, held vertical only by Q's bear hug of his torso. Even his skull lulls back and forth. Lethargy, his mind provides. Where's Sapnap, his heart asks?

Karl's head rolls forward, temple knocking against Quackity's collarbones. This feels like dying. 

How's he going to explain this one? 

He cries quietly into Q's shoulder, listless in the sea of mindless reassurance. He's so tired it hurts. Sapping energy had made sleep painful. He was trained not to. Every time he'd almost pass out in the Inbetween, there was a shock to his system keeping him away. Just enough to keep him from falling, not enough to stop the exhaustion. 

"You're alright," Quackity coos, hand tightening instinctively around his collar when the loom of another form enters their bubble of safety. Behind them, someone taller, grander, and richer if the glint of gold was what Karl thought it was. 

"Was there--" New person speaks. That's cool. 

"I don't know," Quackity sounds as if he's on the edge of a breakdown too, voice cracking under the strain, "He started screaming, crying, and I-I don't know what happened-- he'd been fine all day--" 

"Last night he had a panic attack. He forgot something we promised and it caused some miscommunication. We-We fixed it though. Kind of. We had to talk today about what happened." Sapnap says, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, "Karl never hides... hides so much from us--" 

It's painful. That clear admission. Karl really hadn't hidden so much from his fiancee's before. Previous to the relapsing of time jumps, it was like Karl had no need to bring up walls with them. He was their prime example of someone who let other people into his life, let them help. He was their goal for mental health, and now he was anything but. Now, he'd gone and hid the most important parts of himself behind prison bars. It couldn't be important if they never knew about it. They never had to change their minds about him if he never told them. 

Wings bristle, raising feathers as a hand cups Karl's cheek. His eyes are too lidded now. He has no idea if they're open or closed, everything a blur of tears. The palm is a salving cushion and he has no qualms pressing himself into it, chasing the comfort. 

"Calm." Sapnap mutters, an unusual show of self-control that would otherwise worry Karl if circumstance wasn't what it is. 

"I don't like them." Q responds. 

"I know." 

A thumb presses under his eye and gently pulls, ignorant to other conversation. Then the same is done with the top lid, thoughtful hums following each movement like an examination. 

There's a sudden snap, loud and grating, against his ear. Karl flinches, though noticeably lagged behind on his response. He whimpers and pushes his face into Q's jacket, which the avian trills at. 

He was on the tipping edge of sleep. Now, Karl was just too overwhelmed by the noises, the people, the sudden static feeling of reality. But apparently he's not done with it, because despite Q's best efforts and Karl's begrudging stubbornness to stay in the darkness, hands pull his face from the covers and tilt his head. He whines, but grumpily complies. Grief gives way to more dissolving energy, slipping from between his fingertips. 

"He's alright." The voice rumbles, low and soothing. It's almost enough to lull Karl right to sleep, "You're just tired, aren't you? Sleepy, maybe in need of a fresh meal after a long nap." A hand rubs a small circle under his eye with light pressure. It's like a damn face massage. He has no idea how the fuck it works, but it hits an ache he didn't know was there, melting him further. 

Speaking of naps, jesus, that sounds fucking amazing. 

"It's alright, you can sleep. You're safe." 

"'s'goin'g?" 

"No one's going anywhere." The voice responds after a pause, clearly trying to decipher what he's just slurred out. 

It's enough for Karl, and the added feeling of Q's death grip on his hoodie is confirmation. Weight in his head becomes unbearable, sliding him down and towards warmth, ignoring the stifled shocked noise Sapnap makes watching him go slack. 

Conversation takes place above him, but he couldn't be more detached from it. Eventually it fuzzes away and leaves Karl with the encompassing hold of a loved one. He prays, begs, anyone who would hear, that he doesn't wake up to unfamiliar voices again. 

\--

When he's coaxed back to consciousness, "soft" pertains as one of the strongest motivators to dragging back to sleep. 

He's in bed, thank god, laying face up towards the ruddy slanted ceiling of dark oak. Sheets are piled on top of him, some of them he doesn't even remember being in their storage. Pillows are laid under and beside his head like they were attempting to make a coffin of comfort. 

'They' however, is debatable. Because as much as Karl loves the warmth and gentle reawakening, he's not exactly positive that he's not been shoved into the past again. It looks like his home, these sheets smell like home, but he's been tricked before. Lied to. Everything feels familiar when you're looking for it to be. When you're lost in backroads, you swear you see a path that'll lead you home, though it'll just trick you into another circle. 

His fingers flit to the collar of his simple white tee that he wears under his hoodie, anxiety gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Karl wants his hoodie back. By all definitions, it's a comfort blanket, a reminder of care, something he always has when he switches dimensions. Maybe it changes a little bit, but it's always there. If he's going to deal with this again, he needs that sweatshirt. 

Karl shoves off the blankets, swinging his legs off the bed and testing his weight balance on them. He feels... a little weaker. Not significantly, he can still walk and move, but it's with noticeable strain. His muscles feel locked, creaky. How long was he asleep? 

The door to the room swings open, and with wide eyes, Quackity steps in. 

"Ah," He breathes, "Yeah. Of course you woke up alone. Fuckin..." He seethes at himself, shaking his head a tiny bit.

"Quackity." Karl whispers, voice hoarse. 

That breaks him out of his self deprecating stupor, alarm bells ringing in his eyes, "Yeah? Karl, you okay?" He paces to Karl's bedside, pulling their corner arm chair closer to the mattress. His hand hovers above Karl's, "S'okay if--?" 

Karl's already snatched up his hand, holding it with two of his own and pressing his forehead against the other's knuckles. It's real, it's all real. Quackity is one of his anchors to reality, keeping him in the present. Holding his hand, he won't go anywhere. Maybe that's not true, maybe it's a lie. But it feels real enough to him. 

"You're here." He chokes, "You're here." 

"Of course, I'm right here. I'm here." Q reaches forward and cups the back of Karl's neck, tilting him up so their foreheads bumped, "I'm right here. Always, Karlos." 

Karl can't respond, so he just nods. His lips begin to twist, curling into a miserable sob, and it feels like it's been so long since he's seen Quackity, felt his hand, heard his voice--

He tips down and catches the other's lips, hand sliding to cup his smooth jaw. Q hums with lithe surprise, holding the kiss for a few moments longer like he'd been itching for touch too, before he pulls back. His wings flutter with held back joy. 

"What's going on, Karl?" He whispers, still holding him close, thumbing his nape. His eyes are so lost and muddled, desperate. It's not like he didn't enjoy the display of affection, but it felt damning. Like Karl was trying desperately to keep himself as close to Q as possible to ignore any other possibilities. 

"It's complicated." 

"We're complicated." Quackity huffs, pulling the edge of his lip up into a smirk, "No part of us has been... simple. Sapnap's ex-friend is in prison. I have wings. We're a bunch of fuckin' clowns."

Karl bites his lip, "I know." 

"And now you're... you're forgetting things. Important things. And missing for hours of the day without reason, or at least not one you'll tell us. Then you have a full on," Quackity huffs, exasperated, "Breakdown over what looked like nothing and- and screaming about how you--- how you'd rather die and--" He scowls, dashing away the wetness in his eyes. 

"I thought maybe you were sick but... Karl are... are you--" Quackity chokes up, jaw setting, "Are you done... with... with us? With this?" 

It's like Quackity's stabbed him, radiating pain collapsing in his lungs, his chest, his heart-- 

"No-- Fuck-- No-" Karl gasps, reaching out suddenly to snatch up the front of Q's shirt, curling his fists into the fabric, "Please don't fucking leave me, please--" He sobs, "You're all that's keeping me here, you and Sapnap, please--" 

"Karl," Quackity gently holds Karl's wrists, "Tell us what's going on. What's happening to you? Keeping you here? Where?" 

"I can't tell you." He says bitterly, "I can't." 

"Why?" 

"I-I don't know it-- it just said I couldn't." 

Karl can almost hear the sirens that run off through Quackity's skull, feeling his skin heat with rage, "Who said you couldn't? Karl, if someone's telling you to keep something secret from us because they're threatening you, at least tell me who so me and Sapnap can fucking bury them." His fury is like sunken teeth into flesh. A promise. 

"I'm not being threatening, I just don't know if... if maybe I'll mess everything up by telling you." 

"A-are you sick?" 

Karl pauses, "I don't think so." 

"Eret said you were sleep deprived. Malnourished." Quackity squeezes his hands, "You weren't like that the night before. You weren't malnourished when you were eating lunch with us. You went from signs of health to- to like you'd been through weeks without us in seconds." 

"I don't know if it'll-- It'll hurt you or bring you into it." Karl ignores what Quackity implies, instead busying himself with the idea of Quackity being lost in the Inbetween. Pure white colored clothes, alone, reading about a destiny he didn't choose. Sapnap being thrown into different timelines, killed every single time just like his abuser swore he would. His heart clenches. It's hell. A hell he refuses to put them through. 

"I can keep a secret Karl. Me and Sapnap, we can. And we can tackle anything together." 

"What if it hurts you?" He whimpers, resting his head on Q's shoulder. 

"It's already hurting you, Karlos." Quackity counters with a hum, carding his fingers through the boy's hair, "That's damage enough. I don't... ever... want to see you like you were at the picnic ever again. That was scary, Karl. I thought I was gonna lose you." He tightens his hold. 

Karl wants to promise that he could never lose him, he wouldn't allow that, but the dashed memories of the night before are still burning stigma behind his eyes. He breathes, inhaling the more familiar smell of Q's freshly laundered clothes and Sapnap's shitty cologne. 

He loves them so fucking much. Enough that even with deteriorating memory, with a lack of their names sometimes, he can feel the trust and bond they spent years cultivating. Even if his head forgets, his heart never has. It's always beat for them, no matter where or when he was in time or reality. He wants to pretend none of this happened, and keep pushing that everything is okay, but it's not. God, it's so clearly not. 

Karl doesn't want to be alone anymore. He's scared, fucking petrified, of destroying everything he's tried so hard to build up. He could fix this, he could. He can go into the past and fix what's broken with the powers the Inbetween have given him. But the cost is growing too high. And maybe if they know, maybe he won't be so goddamn alone. So fucking tired. Lost. Every time he feels himself slip, he can bring himself back with that sweater, the hot sauce stain and stupid mismatched socks. Because with them, it's less scary. Or, in fact, maybe it's not less scary-- but if they believe in him, he can go through with it anyway. 

And they deserve an answer. And the pros are outweighing the cons. He's not sure what'll happen if he tells them who he is. But the Inbetween will have to suck it up, because Karl can't be alone anymore. He just can't. 

He takes a shuddering breath in; 

"I can time travel." 

\--

It takes hours to fully explain what needs to be said. Quackity's patient, but his shock is clearly present. His face is a journey of emotions throughout the ordeal. He's shocked, concerned, and dead fucking pissed, then back to broken hearted when Karl explains how he doesn't even have a choice in the manner. How long it takes for him to want to come back, how him and Sapnap are the only thing bringing him back. How he's doing this for them, to fix the world to make a future where they don't have to be scared of anything anymore. 

He waits for the other shoe to drop. For Quackity to be disgusted or angry, that he's put himself in the front lines. It never happens, not towards him. Quackity gets mad, he can see it in the way his wings twitch and his expression darkens, but it's never towards him. It's towards the inbetween, towards whatever's telling Karl he cannot tell anyone about what he's going through, especially when it's something as taxing as this. 

"And today?" Quackity mumbles, fingers laced with Karl's. 

"It pulled me in two times, one after another. I had... I didn't have time to sleep. No time to eat. Stasis stuff. And then it-it dropped me in right at the end of our day and," Tears well up in his eyes, the same childish frustration building inside him, "I just wanted to be with you so badly and I missed it and messed it up--" 

A hand comes up to caress his cheek, wiping at the spilled over tears with his thumb, "Hey, hey," Quackity soothes, "You didn't mess up jack shit. If we have a day out, I want you to be there. And you... were there-- but it's not worth it if you don't remember it. I understand your frustration, Karlos, as much as I can."

"I'm tired, Q," Karl sniffles, holding his palm to Karl's cheek, "I'm so tired." 

"I know, I know," Quackity coos, dark eyes bearing into his soul, "We'll figure it out, together. Okay? You, me, Sapnap, we'll figure out how to make this... lessen this. Maybe even get rid of it one day." 

Karl chuckles, "I don't know if that's possible." 

"We'll do what we can. And if that's not enough, we'll do more. We're a team. It's cheesy and stupid and shit, but we are. You were there for me when I went through shit, now we're gonna be there for you. That's not a topic up for discussion." 

"The universe might have something to say about that." 

"The universe can quite frankly, suck my dick. Me and Sapnap would break the fucking world for you, Karl. You get that? Nothing's about to stand in our way." 

Karl missed this. Missed his blunt optimism in the face of opposition. Quackity's dark eyes are so full of hope and determination, he can't help but be fueled by it. For a moment, he really believes him. Really believes his Icarus would burn the world for his smile. The devotion is enthralling. It's such a stark contrast to how he feels the Inbetween look at him. Like he's special, but special as in a unique speck of dirt. 

He meant nothing to the universe, but to Quackity and Sapnap, he was the universe. 

"You really love me." He whispers. 

"It's not like we lied." Quackity returns in low tone, "Bend it all. Break it all. Say the word. We're not giving up, and from what you've told me, you never did either. Even if you didn't... didn't really know us. You didn't stop loving us." 

"I love you. I love you both so fucking much." 

"I love you too, you stupid wonderful man." 

The door creaks open again, revealing Sapnap holding a bowl of soup and a spoon, eyes wide when he sees his two fiancee's teary eyed and holding each other. 

"Uh. Is everything okay?" 

He shuffles inside and sets the bowl on the bedside table. 

Quackity squeezes Karl's hand, giving him a questioning look. Do you want to tell him now? 

A part of him says no. Says absolutely fucking not. Says that Sapnap could be in danger and that he should just make everyone forget he said anything, to keep this secret to himself. Suffering alone, he could handle. Even if it's a lie. 

But ten million others scream 'yes'. That Sapnap loves him and the hardest part is over, that he's been emboldened by his other fiancee's clear devotion. Everything would be okay. They might not turn out exactly how he expects, maybe he'll still have to time travel, but he's not keeping them out anymore. He can't afford to, if today taught him anything. 

Karl nods, feeling braver with Q's hand in his own.

"S-Sap... I gotta tell you something." 

"Is everything okay?" Sapnap's eyebrows knit together, kneeling beside him and glancing worriedly at Quackity. 

Karl swallows thick around his tongue, warmth building in his limbs.

"It will be."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl's feeling better physically, but emotionally there still seems to be some loose ends to tie up with an old friend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have! A half chapter to tide yall over till i finish the fic. the eret scene is very HEAVY dialogue so im trying to cushion it out with actual decriptors? anyway also i started new meds so my brains a little bit like a mixed up bowl of cookie batter so it might be a hot second till yall are fed again-
> 
> tw: some brief frustrated speaking/ shouting and description of a past death but nothing graphic, this part is pretty soft n sweet

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty." 

"You guys are the most predictable-- ugh." Karl huffs, shoulder checking the snickering misfit, Sapnap, on his way to breakfast. Tension between his eyes seems to snap free with the sound of ceramic clucking against the wooden table. 

"Coffee, for my habibi." Quackity winks. He's juggling two other full mugs in his other hand, stretching one over to Sapnap who had decided to sit on the counter instead of at the table (like a normal damn person). 

"Thank you," He hums, sipping down the unbalanced mixture of creamer with coffee. The ring of caffeine is undeniably comforting after a stressful couple of days. He'd been near bedbound, with how often Sapnap and Quackity were to usher him to rest. He's not surprised, considering it was half of the instructions Eret had apparently given to them for his care. Rest and good food. Which meant he got twice that, with naps upon naps and always a full belly. Doting was never something Karl would outwardly protest, though he'd still pretend like their constant attention was annoying. 

Sunlight washes in from the windows, the early morning sun still setting the countryside aglow. They'd moved, considerably sooner after their first change, out to the ends of the SMP, pressed against the hillsides. No more unwanted visitors, no more wars, just plains of green and golden stalks of wheat. 

It was a thousand times better than the crater Karl had saddled himself to. 

Sapnap cocks an eyebrow at the incoming lush, studying it with vibrant blues, "You're heading to Eret's today, yeah?" He asks, not looking away from the window. It didn't take a genius to tell the pressure suddenly shoved into the air made them all uncomfortable. 

Karl lets out a small breath, curling his two hands around his mug to savor the warmth, "Yup. Last one before I'm 'cleared' as you both keep saying." He teases. 

The tension doesn't lighten. Karl knows by now, the ignited emotions aren't directed at him. His fiancée's could hardly go a week without communicating if something was wrong between them. But the pressure was at the mere mention of Eret. 

The whole group's dynamic had... been compromised, so to say. 

Quackity had recounted the entrance of the king to Karl after he'd woken up more clear headed. Sapnap didn't have anywhere else to go, their only sort of ally being them. Nobody was extremely pleased with that idea, but it's not like there were many options. Bad was the next closest, but Sapnap's feral diffusion of that option had thrown it out quickly. They weren't bringing his dad into this, especially now. 

There'd been a small shouting match, but Sapnap had gotten Eret to concede, following him to where the others were. Eret's a king, a monarch, and sometimes an asshole, but he's not entirely unkind. Karl would imagine the second Sapnap let down his usual bravado for the rigid fear beneath, Eret had agreed to go. 

Again, no one was happy about it though. Quackity had been on razor's edge when Eret held Karl's face to inspect for injuries, even worse when the boy flinched away. But he'd helped. Karl got better, managed to calm him down with placating words and a low voice (better than the shouts of fearful lovers). For that, they felt maybe a bit grateful. Begrudgingly, grateful. 

So now everything was awkward. There's not exactly a muffin basket for this sort of thing. 

'Sorry about breaking your castle and framing you for murder that we actually did ourselves. You were part of a system to bring down a tyrannical god and got in the way.'

'Sorry we made you live with the guilt of killing Karl only to beg you to come figure out what's wrong with him because none of us have medical experience, but to be fair you were the closest one with the most stable mental ability.' 

Not to mention, Karl's not even sure if Sapnap or Quackity have even truly forgiven Eret yet. Or if they even needed to. George was nonplussed by the whole situation, there wasn't a reason to be mad at Eret for taking back the throne. He didn't HURT anyone. 

"Do you... want to come with?" Karl tries, worrying his lip between his teeth. 

"No way." Quackity hisses, dishes clattering as he places them roughly into the sink, "No." 

Sapnap hums, "Q, dishes, man." 

"Shit." He groans, noticing the sleeves of his jacket now soaked in water, "Fuckin'... O-okay I didn't mean to be that loud but, I don't want to. Eret's- Listen, I'm sure he's a fine guy but he's still at the epicenter of this shit and I don't know if I can... can even look at his goddamn face--" His voice layers to a tone, his split lip sneering. 

Karl reaches out a sleeved hand and holds his, eyebrows knitted, "It's alright Q, you don't have to." 

"He looks so much like him." Quackity breathes, more wobbled. His fingers trace the scar across his mouth, arching across his cheekbone. 

"I think we'll stay," Sapnap interjects, sweeping to his lover's side and pulling him into his chest, "Sorry, unless you want me to come along?" 

"Nah, I think it's better if I go alone anyway." Truly. Eret might be more on guard if he brought two of his least favorite people with. At least between him and Eret, there was no animosity. This would be quick and easy without them, though he hates to admit it. 

Whatever worries Quackity has are brushed under the rug as he relaxes into the other's grip, huffing as if frustrated by his own ailment. He squeezes Karl's hand in silent encouragement. 

"Take armor." Sapnap gestures with his head towards the sets displayed along the furthest wall. 

"I'm not going into a war zone." Karl snorts, taking a long drink of his coffee before standing out of his chair. 

"It's more for me than it is for you." He admits. 

Karl nods, pulling on a chest plate and leg guards, saving his converse and hood free for ease and travel. He taps the front of the netherite armor and looks to Sapnap, who gives him a grin.

"I feel better already."

"Do you?" 

"I'll feel the best when you get back safe, but," He waves Karl over and the other bounces over for a brief kiss on the forehead from Sap, then a cheek smooch from Quackity, "I know you can handle yourself." 

"Damn right." Karl snips, lightly jabbing the boy in the side. Quackity giggles, holding Sapnap still. 

He yelps, laughing "Alri-- hey! Oh don't make me regret being mushy, Karl!" He tousles Karl's hair then shoves him towards the door, "Get your coffee and leave us already. Get there safe." 

Karl sneaks his coffee back into his hands and gives the two a nod, "Will do!" 

"We'll be in the yard later!" Quackity calls before the door shuts, probably planning on updating the current crops and adding to the in-construction library. 

Karl lets that thought roll in his head while he walks, absently sipping coffee. He'd never imagine anything like this would be happening. It turns out, random many eyed angels don't descend from the sky after you tell someone about the Inbetween. He didn't explode into hellfire or fuck up the timelines. If anything, life has gotten... well... better. With Q and Sapnap on his side, leaving didn't feel so scary. 

He can only relate it to a nightmare, or rather, chronic nightmares. Where you always have them, they never stop, but as long as you know you can wake up and someone will be there to tell you it's okay, it makes the whole thing a little less painful. Even if you don't remember it in the moment, it'll happen anyway. Karl being thrown off into timelines is terrifying, but Sapnap and Q are always there waiting for him. Maybe not always aware of where he's gone, but they're there for him regardless. 

The library was a great example of that. He's not even sure how he'd explain away the library if he couldn't tell them what if was for. With their help it's become a bit more of a safe place to land. Beds, blankets, food in the cabinets within grasp and water nearby, so if he ended up there with not a lot of time, he could snack before his next jump. And his favorite bit, pictures. 

Pictures of them all, courtesy of Philza. Some of them are just things Karl liked to do. Writing, reading, cartoons, cooking, building. But most of them are of the throuple. On picnics, at the beach, during holidays, just hanging out, the first flight Quackity took, Sapnap's birthday, it's all there hanging from walls so he always knew who he was safe with. That those pulses in his heart had a face and names and forms. So he'd remember, and never forget who they are, and more importantly; who he is. 

He drains the cup of coffee, heart warm. 

The castle fades into view, large flag whipping in the wind. And if the tolling bell of the morning was any proof, Eret was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one will be! eventual! give it time

**Author's Note:**

> might do ONE more chapter for this one where Eret and Karl talk, maybe hash out how Eret might help Karl with controlling the time travelling and some redemption arc Eret because goddamn i need it.


End file.
